I Found A Liquor Store, And I Drank It
by Fix The Sky A Little
Summary: (or A Completely Unrelated Series of Supernatural Drabbles.) Seriously none of these have anything to do with the other, and most of them are going to be snippets from random episodes, etc. etc. CAN'T STOP, WON'T STOP, DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP.
1. 001

**I Found A Liquor Store, And I Drank It  
(or A Completely Unrelated Series of Supernatural Drabbles)**

Castiel stares at the screen of his cell phone for five and a half minutes before he finally hits send.

It only rings once before it picks up.

"Hey – are you alright?"

Dean sounds tired and upset, two things that always make something in Castiel ache, but he also sounds worried about him, which makes something hot and possessive curl in the base of his vessel's stomach, though he has no idea why it does so or what it's supposed to signify. His tongue is also horribly swollen inside of his mouth, so he has to swallow around it a few times before he can answer.

"Dean." He admits softly. "I believe I'm intoxicated."

There's a long, tense pause before Dean speaks again, and when he does he sounds infinitely more stressed out than he did before. "You're drunk? Are you kid –" He takes a deep breath. "Where are you?"

"Uh. I'm in a park." Castiel looks around the thickly wooded area, with its snow covered branches and its Christmas lights, but he can't quite remember the town he's in, let alone the state he flew himself to, so he shrugs his shoulders in response. A second later he remembers Dean can't see him doing this and frowns at the tiny piece of plastic pressed to his ear accusingly. "There's a lot of snow."

"Look for a sign –" Castiel snorts and Dean seems taken aback for a moment – even through the phone. "What?"

"Do you want me to find a burning bush for you, Dean?"

"Wow." A surprised huff of laughter follows and Castiel smiles, extremely and unexplainably proud of himself. "You are drunk."

"Where are you now?" Cas is stricken by a violent urge to be with Dean _immediately _– to see him laugh in person. His wings tremble with the desire to _go_.

"No way, Feathers." He hears vague shuffling and the sound of technology whirring to life on the other end. "As your friend, I'm not going to let you drink and fly. Let's see – oh you're only like an hour away, dude."

"You know where I am?" Cas turns around and glares suspiciously into the shadows, expecting Dean to walk out of any one of them. "How?"

"GPS on your cell. Sam and I'll come and get you." Dean's moving quickly wherever he is, grabbing his keys, donning his jacket, kicking a sleeping Sam awake ("_Hey! _What the actual fuck Dean!?" "Gotta go get Cas." "And you need me to go _why_?" "Just shut up and get in the car." "_Fine_.")

And then, very quietly, Dean says - "Is that – uh – okay?"

"Yes – that's –" His vessel's palms suddenly become sweaty and weirdly slick, and his grip on the cell phone slips, causing him to struggle awkwardly before he can continue. "That would be fine."

"Right." A hotel door slams shut, the Impala's doors swing open. "Uh."

"I'll see you."

The Impala roars to life.

"Soon?"

Sam Winchester groans loudly in the background, and Castiel has no trouble imagining the look on his face.

"I am far too tired for this No You Hang Up First _bullshit_ – can we please just_ go_?"

The last thing Castiel hears before Dean disconnects with him is the sound of a fist hitting someone's arm and Dean's loud, embarrassed yelp of indignation.

He's still laughing when they find him exactly an hour later.


	2. 002

**I Found A Liquor Store, And I Drank It  
(or A Completely Unrelated Series of Supernatural Drabbles)**

Dean slips through the open door unbeknownst to the preoccupied, frantic attentions of Kevin and Sam, who are still trying to figure out how the Hell he got out of Purgatory, and leaves them safely oblivious inside of the hotel room while he's out searching for somewhere quiet to clear his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and dismally scans the surrounding suburbia, whistling under his shaken breath every now and then, kicking at small rocks as they happen across his path. He chooses a well secluded weeping willow that he stumbles across randomly, ducking under the swaying branches so he can hide in the inky shadows beneath them, where he slides to the dewy grass with a loud thud and seals his back against the tree trunk, until he can feel the rough bark digging into his skin through his jacket.

He sits in comfortable silence like that for a long, long while, watching the stars hanging over his head intently, and only after he's sure enough uninterrupted time has passed, when he's positive no one else is listening besides the moon, he slowly raises a hand and touches the space just above his heart.

"You okay in there, buddy?"

Golden light stirs to life behind his ribcage in response, shining from underneath his palm, streaming straight through his skin, uncoiling and yawning between each excited leap of his pulse. He chuckles and marvels at the luminescence spilling forth from his body, eyes widened by his unencumbered, child-like wonder.

"I'll take that as a yes."


	3. 003

**I Found A Liquor Store, And I Drank It  
(or A Completely Unrelated Series of Supernatural Drabbles)**

The second he enters the dimly lit hospital room, Castiel's entire existence becomes nothing but _sickness._

It's all he knows, it's all he can think about. It consumes _everything – _every single nerve ending in his borrowed body. It brings him to his knees with its buckling intensity, and he watches in complete fascination as thick, hot blood trickles from his mouth, pours crimson and steady over his lips. He can't believe how much it _hurts_. He'd been alive longer than most humans could comprehend, and yet he'd never known what being _sick_ meant – but now – now he knows what it means to his _core_.

"There isn't a speck of angel left in you, is there?"

He isn't particularly insulted by Pestilence's comment, for the horseman had merely stated a fact, but through his fevered haze he can clearly feel Dean and Sam's indignation flare up as violently as if they'd both started shouting on the top of their aching lungs.

He feels their fierce, unyielding desire to "stick up for their angel." _This guy doesn't even know. He has absolutely no idea_, thought Sam Winchester, sneering, while Dean narrowed his clever eyes and curled his lips into a ravenous, manic snarl - _You better pray he kills you first, motherfucker. _Castiel realizes with a sudden clarity – as he let their souls latch onto his like a life line – that they're _proud_ of him, that they _believe in him. _They want to _protect_ him. Even curled up bleeding half to death on the floor, they wanted to at least try and protect his _honor_.

So, with their added determination threading his veins, Castiel gathers up all of his remaining strength and lunges for Ruby's knife.

"Maybe just a _speck_."


End file.
